


Medically induced overload

by Jarakrisafis



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: M/M, Sticky Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-02
Updated: 2012-08-02
Packaged: 2017-11-11 23:56:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/484322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jarakrisafis/pseuds/Jarakrisafis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jazz finds out that the medics will do anything to make sure a mech is happy and healthy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Medically induced overload

“Woah!” Jazz jumped aside as a brief flash of red hightailed it out of the medbay, a wrench clattering into the wall behind him. He carefully poked his helm around the door and sent Hoist a quick comm. ::Here for my check-up, it safe to come in?::

Hoist glanced up and waved him in and Jazz edged around the door frame to avoid the rather irate CMO as he went to collect his wrench, subvocal grumbles still escaping his vocaliser. 

“Do I want to know?” Jazz asked as he hopped up onto the indicated berth. “More to the point, do I need to know?” 

Hoist shook his helm in a negative as he indicated that Jazz should lie back, “Just Ironhide being his usual irresponsible self on the weapons range.” 

“One day I'll refuse to fix him and then where will he be?” Ratchet asked as he hopped up onto the next berth and pulled a pad out of subspace, although Jazz was quite sure that the universe would implode well before Ratchet refused to treat a patient. 

“Open up Jazz.” Hoist grinned at the theatrical shudder Jazz produced as the medscanner was attached to a dataport and started, the feel of the program crawling through coding to search for corrupted data was not exactly pleasant. 

“Anything been giving you problems? Jazz couldn't quite suppress the yelp when he realised Ratchet was now stood right next to his berth. Of course he'd forgotten that the medscan would disable his more sensitive audial subroutines and besides, he hadn't been expecting the surgeon to help with a simple check-up. But Hoist didn't seem bothered that Ratchet was essentially taking over his job, then again, the 'Cons had been quiet for a while, Ratchet was probably getting bored. 

“Few cables in my right shoulder and my left knee is acting up right after I transform.” Both medics hummed and Jazz had to suppress his amusement at the near identical reaction and then again as two scan passed over his frame within nanoseconds of each other. 

“You're also wound tighter than a turbofox on a hunt.” Jazz just shrugged at the observation, that tended to happen in his line of work, skulking around the Nemesis wasn't exactly the most relaxing job. 

Again the hum of thought before Hoist prodded at the armour over his knee joint, skilful fingers probing at the seams until he found the catch, then he was poking around in the joint itself. Jazz couldn't suppress the slight clatter of armour as the fingers brushed over his sensory net as they tested the gears. “Aren't you forgetting something?” Jazz asked, glad that he managed to speak without any static in his vocaliser. 

“I don't think so.” Hoist said as he glanced up, meeting Jazz's visor even as his fingers remained in his knee, directly on top of a cluster of sensors. A wicked smirk passed over his face before he turned his attention back to the joint, leaving Jazz to let his helm thunk back onto the berth with a groan. Slagging medic. Of course turning the sensor net off would have been too much to ask. 

And then there was a second set of hands on his shoulder as more armour was detached and Jazz had to suppress the whine that wanted to escape. 

“You might as well just give in Jazz, you aren't leaving until Hoist declares you fit and healthy.” Ratchet sounded amused as he dragged his hands along the tension cables, using the built in sensors in his palm to look for any microfractures. 

“So what, you'll add 'medically induced overload required' to my file before I can leave?” Jazz asked with a quick grin before abruptly sobering at the identical expressions of glee on the medics faces. “Don't you dare!” Neither of the smirks diminished one iota. 

He yelped as something moved in his knee, the grind of metal over metal loud and a flash of pain indicated something had happened. “Sorry.” Hoist gently massaged the abused sensors. “You had a loose cog, it just needed slipping back into place. 

“Right.” He let his helm hit the berth again as Hoist kept up the gentle pressure on the sensors, in fact, the pain had disappeared and the medic was showing no signs of stopping. And then there was still the warmth radiating from his shoulder as Ratchet eased the taut metallic fibres in his tension cables. 

He barely registered the medscanner being unplugged when it beeped, except the heat was suddenly gone and he whined, wanting it back.. 

There was that hum again, the one that said 'medic thinking, run now', but Jazz was too comfortable to run right now. 

“Sit up a moment.” Hoist said, offering a hand to the puddle of black and white painted metal, letting Ratchet hop up onto the berth. “Lie back down and turn over.” 

Jazz wriggled onto his front, ending up with his head practically in Ratchets lap. “What're you doin?” 

“Participating in giving a medically induced overload. Now lie still and stop asking questions.” Jazz could hear the amusement in the senior medics tone as he repeated Jazz's words from earlier. Warnings flashing across his processor let him know that he was losing more armour, the hidden catches no deterrent for two very determined medics. 

Jazz couldn't stop the rumble from his engine when that delicious heat finally returned to his shoulder, both shoulders in fact, spreading out across his back as Ratchet was able to manipulate his sensor net directly. 

Fingers traced the edge of his interface panel before deftly unhooking it completely and adding it to the pile of plating already removed rather than let Jazz transform it out of the way. He didn't bother to try and stop his internal fans whirring to life as interfacing coding came abruptly online with the armour's removal and the first touch to his valve entrance. 

This was a rather new development, none of his other check-ups had ever been like this, then again, this was the first time they'd caught him right after a mission. But still... then again... he squirmed, nah, better not to say anything. He really, really didn't want them to stop now. 

In fact, Jazz squirmed again, pressing backwards towards Hoist before he was caught by his shoulder struts and hauled back up the berth. He whined as Ratchet kept hold of his shoulders and Hoist continued to tease. A single finger sliding into his valve, pushing against the pliable walls and setting off the sensors, but not enough, the charge building and then ebbing away, relaxing but frustrating at the same time. 

“I thought you were going for medically induced overload, not a medically induced extinguishing.” Jazz muttered, mainly to Ratchets lap but the quiet laughter let him know they had heard. As did the hands urging him up onto his knees before the mesh of the berth stretched, adjusting to the weight of another mech. Jazz could feel each exvent of atmosphere from Hoist as he moved behind him. 

Then he was being stretched, microplating shifting, expanding and the sensors registered every small change as the medic took him. Hoist stilled, his plating pressed against Jazz's back, small discharges of static jumping from his armour to Jazz's unprotected back, each small charge setting his sensors on fire. He'd almost forgotten what it felt like to interface without the barrier of heavy wartime armour. 

Jazz arched into a finger as it made its way down his backstrut, along sensors which hadn't been directly stimulated for far too long, rocking into the contact as Hoist began to move. 

Slowly. 

Jazz whimpered, very undignified, but he didn't care as he urged Hoist to pick up speed. To no avail. 

It was a slow burn, building in a wave that was growing stronger, each thrust providing such delicious, torturous friction in his valve and the hands roaming over his exposed sensors, data streaming into his processor faster than it could be logged. Charge racing around his circuits with the excess stimulation, too much to acknowledge all at once as systems shut down in a cascade of electric discharges. 

“You should do check-ups more often.” Jazz muttered once he had rebooted and focused his visor on the smug looking medic whose lap he was still using as a pillow. 

“Keep coming back from your assignments in this condition and I'm sure we can schedule you more.” Hoist said with a chuckle before shifting, rolling his hips and letting the spy know that they were far from finished with him. 

The mental note to come to his check-ups right after returning from Nemesis infiltration missions was written, filed and flagged within nanoseconds.


End file.
